Child of Yggdrasil
by PoeticEden
Summary: My interpretation of Loki, the one without home, the child of Yggdrasil and the slayer of realms, during his torment prior to Ragnarok. Based on Norse mythology. One-shot.


Impossibly green eyes flashing, gleaming as a sheen of mist settles over, the intensity of the stare incredible, so concentrated, so full of_ hate_, not one could meet. Eyes, no matter how wide, that were unable to display just how much disgust and horror and terror and _hate, hate, hate_. No amount of words were to bring justice to such _hate_. A brother's gaze fell.

_Nostrils flaring, eyes widening, a wrath rising like bile in the back of my throat_

_Chest filling, heart pulsing, fury burning in the pit of my stomach_

_Rage blinding, blinding my eyes, blinding all I see._

Trying to vomit through sewn lips, trying to escape the iron entrails of his own son, the mist growing into a stream, eyes no longer filled with _hate_ but instead an impossible amount of revulsion. And it hurt. He tore at the binding to scream, and screamed. A scream so full of _brokenness_. So much heavier than the glowering. Blood dribbled from torn lips, stomach churning in aversion, face twisting in an expression of tormented sorrow. And he is left alone to suffer.

_And ice settles, seizing my lungs in a vice_

_White hot fingers digging, searing into my soul_

_And it eats at my mind like an acid, and it burns._

The huge body curls up his legs and wounds its way round his torso, and its grip is of iron, and its scales are of diamond, and it's black, and it's huge, and it's cold. And it restricts his breathing and it crushes his lungs, and it keeps him from thrashing, and he can't move, and he can't breathe, and he cannot even scream. It rears its ugly head and the great expanse of its mouth parts, and the tongue slithers out, and it is lathered with layer upon layer with thick, acidic saliva, and it wraps round his neck, and up his cheek, and into his mouth, and he tries to scream, but oh _God_ he can't and it hurts and it _burns_ and it can't be possible, it can't be real.

_But worse is the terror, and the terror is real, and the terror is here, and the terror is now_

_And the terror is all I am_

_And the terror is all I see._

Eyes, unable to flee, unable to obey, wide, dilated, afraid, they see the fangs – for who could not? – and they're black, and they're huge, and they're cold. Venom glares on teeth like blood on sword, and it's thick, and it's black, and it's pooling, and he sees now the fangs are larger than his head, and small points of venom drip, and it burns, and suddenly they plunge downward. He screams, and he screams, and he screams, and he screams, and he screams. He cannot breathe but he screams. He cannot feel but he screams. He cannot see because the fangs are there, they are in his eyes, they are in his eyes, they are in his throat, they are in his throat, and oh God he _screams_. And he prays and he prays and he prays and he prays. And the venom begins to burn, and the venom beings to eat, and the venom enters his body and he is rotting and his flesh is smoldering and his hair is gone and he screams.

_And the pain is welling, like the blood, like the vomit pouring from my mouth_

_ Agony swelling, blistering and ripping and tearing_

_ And there is nothing but red and red and red and red._

The fangs are gone but the pain is not. The tongue has gone but the venom has not. The creature has recoiled, and he can feel the muscles, like steel, rolling and bulging and tensing, and he can feel it now, it's moving, its maw is withdrawing, and he can see now, can see again as the venom, it gathers, 'till like blood is hanging from the jaws, and he knows it won't end, because he can feel his skin knitting back together, and he is stabbed by the fear, and the fear hurts, almost as bad as the venom, and the teeth sink back into the flesh, like a knife through butter, and he _screams._

_Revulsion churning, surging like the angry sea, rolling like the raging fire_

_ Aversion, pure, like the dead of night, distorting like mudded pools_

_ And I am shattered like the reflection in the broken glass._

And it won't stop, and he's lost count, and his skin has gone, and his emerald eyes are twisted, and his face curls, and his throat is so raw, and his tongue is so charred, and his lips are so chapped, and now he knows a fate worse than death. And he is forced to watch and forced to feel and forced to know and forced to cry and forced to scream and his mind is gone and his soul lay broken and he begs to die but not even death can save him.

_And seeping into my vision comes the crimson, and there is nothing but the crimson,_

_Nothing but the hate and the pain and the fear._

_ And the throes of agony overwhelm me,_

_ And the spasms of torment encase me,_

_ And my being is rocked,_

_ And I am no longer._

There is nothing now but pain. He has embodied the pain and he has become the pain and there is nothing but the pain. His being is of pain, his mind is of pain, and he is of pain, but there is no he, there is just the pain, and nothing exists but the pain, and it will never end, _and there is nothing, but there is pain._

_ Wails and sobs and cries and howls_

_And pain and pain and pain and pain_

_And vomit and blood and venom and puss_

_ And screaming and screaming and screaming and screaming_

_ And it's all your fault_

_ And it's all I am_

_ And it's all I feel_

_And it burns._

And day and night and moon and sun and heartbeat and breath and tick of a second and strike of an hour and it does not end.

_And it will not stop, until the world is burning_

_And the world will burn_

_And it will burn_

_Because I will set it afire._

Ragnarok is come, o Child of Yggdrasil.


End file.
